Tuesday, December 03, 2013

Poem for Tuesday and International Spy Museum

On 52nd StreetBy Philip Levine

Down sat Bud, raised his hands,the Deuces silenced, the lightslowered, and breath gatheredfor the coming storm. Then nothing,not a single note. Outside starlightfrom heaven fell unseen, a quarter-moon, promised, was no show,ditto the rain. Late August of '50,NYC, the long summer of abundanceand our new war. In the mirror behindthe bar, the spirits--imitating you--stared at themselves. At the barthe tenor player up from Philly, shuthis eyes and whispered to no one,"Same thing last night." Everyonebeen coming all week longto hear this. The big brown basssighed and slumped againstthe piano, the cymbals heldtheir dry cheeks and stoppedchicking and chucking. You wentback to drinking and ignoredthe unignorable. When the doorswung open it was Pettifordin work clothes, midnight suit,starched shirt, narrow black tie,spit shined shoes, as readyas he'd ever be. Eyebrowsraised, the Irish bartendershook his head, so Pettiford easedhimself down at an empty table,closed up his Herald Tribune,and shook his head. Did the TVcome on, did the jukebox bring usDinah Washington, did the starskeep their appointments, did the moonshow, quartered or full, sprinklingits soft light down? The night'sstill there, just where it was, justwhere it'll always be withoutits music. You're still there tooholding your breath. Bud walked out.

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I'm sure something worth reporting happened on Monday but I'm distracted right now watching Ian McKellen on The Daily Show so I can't remember what. I know there was some work and some laundry and some looking up tablets that I might get with my Chanukah and birthday money -- I did not spend any money for Cyber Monday, does that mean I am bad for the American economy? We lit six candles but we've given each other our presents already; Rosie is feeling better, which is a good present!

I did spend $3 on Black Friday because having owned Dan Brown's Inferno for months, I haven't wanted to lug the book around to read, that's how Kindle-converted I am, so when the eBook got super-cheap, I bought it. I'm not at all enthralled but I figure, hey, I read Les Mis this year, I am entitled to some pure junk reading. We watched Almost Human, which I am enjoying, and Monday Night Football, which was lopsided in the Seahawks' favor. Some more Spy Museum pics:

An example of a bug hidden in a photo in a government office. We saw one like this on The Americans.

Here is something they should have on The Americans -- surveillance hidden in a tree stump.

But I'm really fine with them not going into details about tool kits designed to be hidden in rectums.

And I'm even more fine with no use of rectal cyanide capsules (this one was modeled on the one Hermann Goering used to kill himself).

A Tessina camera designed to be hidden in what looks like a cigarette pack.

This pen was designed to hold a Tropel camera which could also be concealed in a cigarette lighter.

This Canadian lighter-concealing-a-camera looks more Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy to me.

Look, you can see Adam's reflection as he admires this coat concealing a camera in the top right button!